


whitewater

by imagines



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (sort of), (they don't quite get there), Awkward First Times, M/M, Post-Welcome to the Madness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: So.Thathappened. And Yuri’s going to do something about it.Back at the hotel, he grabs Otabek’s arm as soon as no one’s looking. “Come up to my room”—a tiny, breathless whisper that does nothing to conceal his intentions. He doesn’t want to sound cool and unbothered. He’s bothered, okay? He’s simmering like caramel, all his thoughts heavy and thick and sweet and slow. He is distinctlynotchill.(After WTTM, Yuri knows what he wants, and he knows how he’s going to get it. But nothing ever goes as planned. Day 1 prompt: "First Times.")





	whitewater

So. _That_ happened. And Yuri’s going to do something about it.

Back at the hotel, he grabs Otabek’s arm as soon as no one’s looking. “Come up to my room”—a tiny, breathless whisper that does nothing to conceal his intentions. He doesn’t want to sound cool and unbothered. He’s bothered, okay? He’s simmering like caramel, all his thoughts heavy and thick and sweet and slow. He is distinctly _not_ chill.

“The banquet,” Otabek reminds him, as Yuri’s tugging him toward the elevator, “we’re—”

“Going to be late.” Yuri jabs the UP arrow; the doors swish open. They ride up six floors with an assortment of hotel guests, not looking at each other, not touching each other, not acting at all as if they’d been making out in a locker room not thirty minutes earlier. Even though they absolutely did do that, Yuri backing Otabek up against the row of blue metal doors, _clang_ reverberating when he slammed his palms against the lockers on either side of Otabek’s shoulders, a Yuri fence to keep Otabek where he wanted him. The last few days they’ve been inseparable, and now Yuri wants him above and underneath, inside and outside, and all sorts of other prepositions.

Slam the door, throw the lock, latch the chain for good measure, grab the boy by the collar of his stupid-hot leather jacket. Right back to what they were doing before, his body crashing up against Otabek’s, their breath surging like whitewater, until Yuri works up enough audacity to slide his fingers down to the snap of Otabek’s jeans, press his hand against the seam—

Otabek gasps and grabs his wrist. “Yuri, wait.”

Yuri freezes, fingers still hooked awkwardly into Otabek’s waistband. Fear jams itself into the spaces between his ribs, making his voice come out thin and faint when he asks, “What’s wrong?”

Otabek doesn’t release him, but he starts rubbing his thumb along the side of Yuri’s wrist. His eyes are as gentle as the moment Yuri first met Otabek’s gaze, only right now they look sad. “You have no idea how much I want—” He breaks off, turning to press his cheek against the wall. Now he’s not looking at Yuri at all.

Yuri’s chest might just crack open from the pressure building. He’s done something wrong—there’s something he doesn’t understand—Otabek will say he’s too young to get it. He jerks his hand out of Otabek’s grasp and wraps his arms around himself, as if maybe he can hold himself together that way. “What?” he says, so softly that for a moment he isn’t sure Otabek heard him.

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to this,” Otabek says. “I’ve never…” He doesn’t finish this sentence either, but he’s flushing even worse than when Yuri was kissing him.

“Oh.— _Ohhh_ ,” Yuri says, getting it. “Hey, we don’t have to—you know, we can just— _this_ ,” he says, his words graceless; but his body moves to fill in the gaps. He touches Otabek’s jaw, gently turning his face back toward Yuri, and presses a kiss to Otabek’s lips. “Just this,” he repeats, and Otabek’s tense posture goes slack with relief. So, he thinks, just like Otabek can calm him down with a glance or a word, he has the power to soothe Otabek as well. The realization makes his heart go all shivery.

“Yeah,” Otabek murmurs against his mouth. “This is good.”

 

Later, they curl up together on the bed, facing each other, letting their pulses slow. “So—” Otabek’s brows have this cute little wrinkle between them, not quite a frown, just a faint bewilderment. “You’ve already, ah, slept with someone?”

“Well, no,” Yuri mutters. “I haven’t exactly been swimming in opportunities.”

Otabek starts to grin. “What about the An—”

“ _The Angels do not count_.”

“Okay, okay!” Otabek knocks away the pillow Yuri tries to shove at his face, and for some time there’s nothing but the sound of their breathing and the low hum of the heater. Eventually: “But you want to?” Otabek asks quietly. “With me?”

Yuri raises his head so he can look Otabek in the eye, because this is important. It might even be the most important thing he’s ever said to someone in his almost-sixteen years of life. “I think so,” he says, willing now to admit a slight uncertainty. Otabek makes it easy to be honest. “If you want, I mean,” he adds quickly. “If you don’t, it’s okay. I’m still your friend and everything.”

“I know you are.” Otabek’s hands are in Yuri’s hair, twirling it into curls around his fingers. “I trust you, Yuri. And—you know, since we’re going to be late anyway—” Now there’s a devious glint in Otabek’s eyes; a sly twist at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe a little more _just this_?”

“Hell yes,” Yuri breathes, and everything sways and rolls, and they’re back in the rapids again.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi [@ tumblr](http://meimagino.tumblr.com)! :)


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